


Orange Blossom Special

by orphan_account



Category: Handsome Devil (2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 18:29:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19215091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Damon Albarn is an affront to Conor's musical sensibilities and a certain birthday gift is contextualized.





	Orange Blossom Special

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted an explanation about the harmonica, and I really wanted a more in depth knowledge of Conor's music taste. I watched the movie like 4 times in a row and then crapped this out, probably gonna rewrite it when I can think about anything other than how much of a music snob they both definitely are. sorry bout it :(
> 
> oh also i should mention for any other britpop nerds out there, i do absolutely love blur and damon albarn

Conor hadn't thought about it much before, but with the way Ned is able to recall all of these songs word for word, he must either have an eidetic memory or he's played them all over and over until they stuck. Naturally, as Ned is far more average than he wants anyone to think, it's the latter. 

Conor plays the first bit of Parklife until his fingers are dented. Ned, though not necessarily a bad roommate, had spent Saturday morning with it on an endless loop. Blur isn't to Conor's taste- Damon Albarn's voice grates on him and he has a fondness for live music that Blur almost ruined. Unfortunately, he expressed these concerns to Ned far too late and Parklife had become lodged in his brain permanently. 

He made a swift exit after that, short lived as it seems to be.

Ned himself had swooped down to their room beneath the stage about half an hour ago, brimming with a nervous techy energy that fizzled the moment he had realised what Conor's trying to play.

"I thought you could barely even tolerate Blur." He smirks, and Conor can't help but shoot him a snotty look. 

"You've got this crap stuck in my head," he frowns and sets the guitar down in his lap. The tips of his fingers throb gratefully. Ned snatches it up and starts strumming out a rude jumble of discordant nonsense before spinning on his heel, pointing the neck of it at Conor archly. 

"What sort of music do big shot rugby stars listen to then?" Ned asks with a skeptical grin and goes back to strumming, smug like he'd lain down a wicked checkmate. Conor almost wants to argue back against the familiar irritation of being pigeonholed. Instead he settles for silently unfolding from his chair and combing through the records on the off chance that there's something… he just saw it yesterday... yes!

Ned squints over the guitar, still idly strumming.

"At Folsom Prison." Conor announces, holding the cover up for him to see. "Johnny Cash." He grins.

Ned looks suitably skeptical. 

"Never would have pegged you for country music." He drawls with all the disdain of a teenage music snob. Conor wishes he didn't find it hopelessly charming, but he does, so he just grins helplessly. 

"Shut up and listen." He places the record reverently on the table, dropping the needle.

Hello, I'm Johnny Cash.

Ned rolls his eyes at him over the cheers of the prisoners and the first twangy strains of Folsom Prison Blues, but for as militant as Ned is about his britpop, he humors Conor through most of the album. Not to say he didn't spend half the time making rude faces at some of the more ridiculous songs though. Conor's taken to parotting Cash's accent through his speaking bits, and he's quite good if he's being honest.

"Now I'm'onna do another song here featurin' the har-mon-i-ky." Conor drawls along. He breaks into a grin and wiggles his eyebrows at Ned when he starts laughing. 

"My dad loved this one." he says once Ned settles. "I had this little plastic harmonica, would try to play along, not that I did much more than make noise." He grins bitterly as the opening notes of Orange Blossom Special spill out. He hasn't heard it in years, not since before Dad started in on the drinking in earnest. He can't help humming along though, bobbing his head despite how Ned's eyebrows twitch the longer the first harmonica solo drags on. However, when Conor breaks and starts singing along midway through, he cracks up again. 

"Well, I don't care if I do-die-do-die-do-die-do-die…" he sings, and Ned looks like Christmas has come early the lower he goes. 

"I don't know if we can be friends after this," Ned chirps, his face absolutely twisting in glee and Conor resigns himself to just how much he wants to make him look like that all the time. Ned for his part doesn't give much away beyond how impishly pleased he is with how much of a fool Conor's made of himself. 

He lifts the needle after the last notes ring out, and slides the record back into it's sleeve. Ned is still giggling.

"You just wait 'till I find some Stevie Ray Vaughan." He adds, and the familiar way that Ned rolls his eyes and bumps his shoulder makes the uneasiness of moving to Woodhill all but vanish.


End file.
